Run
by KovuTheLion15
Summary: Have you ever had a day where you've woken up, hoping and praying things will be normal? Have you ever heard a piece of news so shocking, it chills you to your core? Have you ever had to say good-bye to your family, not knowing if you'll ever see them again? Probably not. But then again, your name isn't Griffin Wellwood. You're not District 10's tribute.
1. The Reaping

**Hello one and all!**

**So, I finished reading The Hunger Games a little while ago. And I thought, what would it be like if I were trust into the harsh world of The Hunger Games? I'd be killed, that's for sure. But hey, I thought, let's write a fic about it, see what people think.**

**Now, I understand that a lot of you will be screaming at your screens; but people have done this a million times over! I know this, believe me, I know. But it is still something I want to try, and believe me, try I certainly will.**

**So, my character. Essentially he is me, but I cannot use my own name of course. So, I will be under alias for the story. His name is Griffin Wellwood, and he comes from District 10. He is quiet, keeps to himself. But can he potentially be the Hunger Games next victor? Well, we'll see won't we?**

**Oh, and I want you to pretend that the SECOND AND THIRD BOOKS DID NOT HAPPEN. Yep, no uprising, Katniss and Peeta got away with it. Sorry to ruin it, but this is how the story will work. Oh well.**

**DISCLIAMER: I do not own the Hunger Games. I only own Griffin and any other own characters.**

Run

Chapter 1: The Reaping

Have you ever had a day where you've woken up, hoping and praying things will be normal? Have you ever heard a piece of news so shocking, it chills you to your core? Have you ever had to say good-bye to your family, not knowing if you'll ever see them again?

Probably not. But then again, your name isn't Griffin Wellwood. You're not District 10's tribute.

You're not on a train to certain destruction.

First, one must ask himself; how in the name of God's green Earth did I get here? On a beautiful train, speeding towards the Capitol, about to lay it all on the line in what the Capitol called The Hunger Games?

If I had been anyone else, I probably would have been fine. A special skill to be able to rely on. Something that in my head, I could tell myself; _Hey, no worries Griffin. You'll be absolutely fine. Your skills put you on par with everyone else._

Yeah, as if I could be so lucky.

So, how exactly did I end up here? I suppose I should start at the beginning. It all started at the reaping…

**FOUR HOURS EARLIER…**

The Reaping. The most exciting yet most horrifying event that ever came around in District 10, other than the Hunger Games. So I stood with the large group of sixteen year olds, nodding at one another. My guts were on spin-dry, adrenaline flowing through my body like a poison. It threatened to overcome me, to consume my thoughts and make me cry out with panic. Thank god I've got no younger siblings. Or older ones for that fact.

So I stand in line, listening to our Mayor giving some Cock-And-Bull speech I'd heard him give since the age of twelve. Why the Hunger Games existed, what had happened to District 13, and most importantly, that this year was the Eighty-Second Hunger Games.

How fun.

Every year, my Mum always went silent at this point. I know the amount of times your name is in that little ball multiplies every year you get older, but strangely I don't feel as nervous as Mum.

It won't be me. Of course it won't be me. I'm never chosen for anything! Not that I want to be chosen.

I won't say that I'm not completely nervous about being chosen. Of course, being chosen would probably cause me to break down and panic, but right now, listening to the Mayor; I don't feel nervous at all. I feel like I'm back at my shack (you really couldn't call it a house) with Mum, and I'm working hard to provide us with food, and all the rest of it. This, for me, is the norm. But then, he has his hand in the ball of female tributes. He pauses for dramatic effect (I swear he enjoys this every year) and calls out the name.

"Jessica Carbrini!"

The sleek and sexy that's-the-girl-that-has-never-even-looked-at-me-i n-my-entire-life girl walked out of her group, her face pale, and a slight shade of green, but set and determined. Her eyes were half closed, as if she was in a dream. Maybe she hoped she was. I listened to her family, screaming in agony.

"Jess! Don't go Jess! You're going to die!"

No matter what your opinion was of anyone in the District; when it came to the Reaping, you all stood as one. Jessica took her place. Then, the Mayor had his hand in the males. I stood stock still, calmly repeating everything in my head.

"It won't be me, it won't be me." I found myself whispering.

"Griffin Wellwood!"

I don't know which hit me first; the fact that it was my name that the Mayor had just called, or the painful scream of my mother from the side-lines. I took a deep breath, and exhaled, closing my eyes. I would go up like Jessica did; I had to remember, they televised this, and I did not want to look weak.

I took a few steps out of my group and began the walk up to the Justice Building's podium; our Justice Building was behind a statue of the Capitol's first president. So yeah, it had been left alone. Touch the statue, you die. With every step I take, I exhale deeply. The walk just seems to be getting longer and longer. Eventually though, I manage to get myself to the front, and I take my place next to Jessica. She glanced sideways at me, and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

And the thing was; she smiled back.

So, step one down. Make a friend. I took my place as the Mayor read out the Hunger Games motto. I preferred to stick to something short and sweet; Winning made you famous. Losing meant Certain Death.

Pretty simple right?

Yeah, Right. I sit in a comfortable room in the Justice Building, observing my surroundings. Here in District 10, we specialize in livestock; I work as a butcher, and I can see from around me that there is animal skin everywhere. I wonder how much of this skin is cut from the animals that I myself had cut up… Well, let's not dwell on the negatives.

The door swings wide, a Peacekeeper standing by the door, letting in a tear-stained mother. My mother. She walks over to me, collapsing when she gets to the chair I'm sitting in, and begins to cry. I stroke her hair comfortingly.

"Don't worry Mum. I'm going to be fine. It's me, remember?" I listen to my voice, cracked and nervous, coming from my mouth. Apparently, I don't even believe myself.

"Worry? How can I n-not worry? You're m-my son!" My mother manages to get out, before breaking into fresh tears. I sigh lightly.

"Mum, please get a grip." I say, holding her tightly. "Don't show any form of weakness when you leave here. We've seen parents do this for countless years, so please trust me when I say this; you're going to be fine. I'm going to come back."

"You're… g-going to k-k-kill?" She says, disbelief now breaking its way through.

I sigh heavily. "I will do whatever is needed to come back here so I can look after you."

She begins to cry again, sobs racking her body. A Peacekeeper comes in, grabs Mum. She screams, but I try not to look at her.

"I love you! Here, take—"Her voice was cut off as the door slammed shut, but I heard something hit the floor.

My attention intrigued by the noise, I see a glint of gold from the floor. I bend over, and scoop up what my mother had dropped.

A gold necklace.

It catches my breath. This was my fathers; I remember talking about this with my mother! If we had sold this, we would never have been poor, been in the situation we had found ourselves in, but Mum had always refused to sell it.

I'm glad she didn't. I'd need a piece of home with me.

**Well, there's the first chapter, all wrapped up. This took me ages to do, literally ages, but I'm quite happy that I have finally managed to finish.**

**To those of you who don't normally dabble in my stories, I would ask that you leave honest reviews about the story. This helps me to advance my own writing, so that you guys get more enjoyment out of reading it.**

**Well, until next time, and may the odds be ever in your favour…**

**-KovuTheLion15 XD**


	2. The Angle

**Hello again!**

**Well, after what I consider to be quite a successful first chapter; and so let's come onto the reviews I received.**

**One person in particular told me that I need to be unique as this is where most authors fail. I personally agree with him/her. Of course, somethings are going to have be similar, things like the interviews, maybe the arenas as well, but I'll do everything in my power to try and change it as much as I can. Sound fair to you guys?**

**OK, so last chapter was mere introductory than anything else if I'm honest; hopefully it caught your attention enough for you to want to read on. If so, welcome back, or if you're reading on, well, then let's rock on!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games (Owned by Suzanne Collins). I only own Griffin Wellwood, and another OC's.**

Run

Chapter 2: The Angle

Three hours.

It's been three whole hours since I left my District for the first and last time in my entire life. Three whole hours since I'd left everything I loved and cared about behind.

I had been taken to the train, put into a room and told that I could wear anything I wanted in the drawers, and do anything I wanted; the only rule was I had to be at dinner in two hours. I sat on the edge of the extremely soft bed (the bed was so soft I sunk at least three inches when I sat on the edge). I observed my surroundings, stroking the material of bed absentmindedly. The material was soft, smooth to the touch, but I could not name it. In fact, there were several things I could not name; I felt like a complete and total stranger here.

Shaking my head, my thoughts turned to Jessica; I wonder how she's doing? I would go and find her, but I don't want to intrude; especially since we've never strictly spoken. I shrug it off. I climb into the shower, becoming completely bamboozled by the shear amount of buttons and settings this contraption had. Clicking one button, hot water began to cascade out of the shower head, trickling over my body. I groaned in pleasure; I could not help myself. We hardly ever had hot water in District 10; it was something that you had to do manually, and a lot of people simply did not have the energy to do so. Twenty minutes later, I climb out again, and dry myself on a towel as I raid the drawers. Fresh underwear, socks (although my last pair of socks had so many holes they hardly counted as socks anymore) a simple white shirt and some coal black jeans. Jeans was one thing I did know the name of; I had a pair of jeans I always wore for work; they used to be my fathers, and were extremely comfortable. Finally, I clipped my father's golden necklace around my neck; this necklace would not leave my body, if it was the last thing I did.

Now feeling a little fresher, I decided to take a walk around the train. Strange, this train did not feel like it was even moving; it felt more like it was just floating in mid-air. How quaint. I pause in my door way, glancing left and right, trying to decide which way I should go. I decide left. I think I can hear voices, and my instinct is right. As I walk in, there sits Jessica, and opposite her is a man I have never seen before.

Jessica is wearing a cherry red dress, her hair clipped up using some form of butterfly clip, which I think she was wearing at the reaping; this must be her District token. Every tribute was allowed one; I suppose my necklace would be mine. Makes sense. Jessica's coral eyes meet my emerald green, and I blush, breaking eye contact. Get a grip Griffin! I force myself to look at her.

"Hey Jessica. How are you feeling?" I say, rubbing my arm awkwardly.

She gives a gentle smile. "I'm not going to bite you, you know. We're in the same boat here; well, same train." I couldn't help but let out a light chuckle, in spite of myself.

"OK, I guess you're right." I say, sitting beside her on the sofa. I look at the male who was now staring at me.

"And you are…" I say. He gives a shrewd smile.

"I apologize, I should introduce myself. My name is Gifford Tew. I'm going to be mentoring you and Jessica through everything, right up until you get put into the arena yourselves."

Me and Jess glance at one another. I'm sure we could both catch the nervous glint in each other's eyes. I certainly caught hers.

"Look, I cannot guarantee you're going to walk out of there alive. I've been doing this for fifteen years and not a single tribute has made it out." Gifford says to me and Jessica. We look at one another again, swallowing lightly, but firmly. I gave a gentle smile.

"Well… looks like we have to be the first." I say, feeling a hell of a lot more confident than I felt. Both Gifford and Jess look at me.

"What makes you say that?" Jess asks. I shrug.

"I've never been one to just lie down and accept my fate. If I'm going down, I'm going down fighting."

My statement leaves a stunned silence. Gifford clears his throat, shattering the silence like glass as he continued on. "Well, we'll come to that when we can. But let's focus on getting you sponsors."

Ah, sponsors. I smile lightly. District 10 never got any. Sponsors works pretty simply; impress someone in the Capitol, and they may feel ever so inclined, or ever so generous that they might dig into their overly deep pockets and buy you something that may prove vital to your survival. The gifts you're sent could be anything at all; a weapon, armour, food, medicine, ammunition; a literal bounty of things that can help you.

"So what angle are we going for?" Jessica asks. I raise an eyebrow, and now it's her turn to shrug. Of course, she's absolutely right; every tribute has an angle. Bloodthirsty maybe? Nervous and shy? Sleek and sexy? You've got to have one.

"Let's watch you at the reaping, and see what we can come up with."

Gifford sends for some food and drinks as me and Jess sit on the sofa next to each other. Gifford is gone for five minutes and I cannot bear the silence any longer.

"You seem a lot less nervous then you looked at the reaping." I note. She nods lightly, acknowledging that she has heard me. It is a minute or two before she replies.

"What you said. About not accepting your fate. I know I'm destined for more than just being slaughtered. Thanks to you… I don't feel nervous anymore."

I shrug. I seem to be doing a lot of that, but I do it anyway. "I was only speaking the truth. Got to learn that about me. I only speak the truth."

We are silent again for a little while. I speak up again, not wanting to sit in silence.

"So what did you do? You know, back at the District? We were in the same class back in school, but we've never really… spoken."

Another nod. This time, her answer is a bit more automatic. Maybe she's trying to not get close to me.

Makes sense. She could be the one cutting my throat within a week. Cut your ties now I suppose.

"I used to have to gut all the livestock."

"You know your way around a knife then."

Jessica sticks out her bottom lip, considering this.

"I know what I'm doing, I suppose."

Again, we fall into silence, but now that I've figured out what she's trying to do, I do not press the issue. We make eye contact out of the corner of our eyes, Coral meeting Emerald Green, and I give her a small smile. She returns it, but it seems forced rather than an impulsive action. Again, I shake it off.

Gifford re-enters. He is followed by two people, one carries food, one drinks. The two platters are set in front of us and I look at the platters, a ravenous look spreading across my face before I can control it. Gifford chuckles.

"That face never gets old. Go on, dig in. Dinner will be soon, but this is just for while we watch the reaping."

I grab some bread and butter and instantly begin to rip into it with my teeth. It's so much nicer than the stuff we have at home; it's warm, salty, and not stale. I sink into the comfortable cushions, which seem to be made of the same material that my bed is. It is then that something occurs to me.

"Hey… you're not from District 10 are you?" I say, looking at Gifford.

Gifford is dressed in a black tux, with purple hair and he seems to be wearing makeup. The makeup was the biggest giveaway for me. He turns from the TV to face me, and smiles.

"Correct Griffin. I'm from the Capitol."

Now Jess speaks up, clearly catching on to what I was driving at. "But aren't you supposed to be tutored by a victor from your District?"

"Does your District have a surviving victor?" Gifford counters. Both me and Jess shake our heads, so Gifford nods.

"There's your answer. You don't have one, so you have been assigned one. Me." I don't know about Jessica, but I would have preferred someone from our District who had been where we are now; knows how we are feeling, knows how to prepare us. This man looks like he's never even been in a muddy field, let alone the Hunger Games. But what can we do?

So, we settle to watch the Reaping highlights. We watch each tribute carefully. I make a mental note to take notice of some of the tributes, in particular the tributes of Districts 1, 2, 3 and 4, where the biggest tributes are. There's a rumour that their tributes are trained for the Games; I find this hard to believe. You're not allowed to train for the Hunger Games, it's against the law. At least, in our District it is…

District 1's tributes seem… placid. The male is 15, but looks strong and aggressive. The female is only 13, but still looks keener than I did.

District 2's tributes were both 17, and the whole time they did not release each other's hands. They must be a couple, I think at first, but then the announcer tells me that they are non-identical twins. Of course, I hit myself lightly. The surnames? Pay more attention Griffin!

District 3's male is 13, but he seems a little nuts. His hair sticks up on end, and he seems to mumble to himself. The female is 18, and she looks quite weak, always twitching. Hmmm…

District 4 impressed me the most, I think. The male was 16, his name Colossus, and he certainly looked the part. Strong, handsome, and looking able to tear us all apart with his bare hands. The female also looked the part; she's 12, but my god does she look vicious. Her teeth are even pointed; so pointed that I nearly think she's done that on purpose; an opinion that the commentator soon voiced straight after. I think her name was… Dixon? A strange name…

They took a little break, and which point I'd eaten nearly a whole loaf of bread. I began to nibble on some peanuts, letting Jessica and Gifford talk between them. Their voices were low; clearly they didn't want me hearing. Well, let them be secretive.

The show starts back up again, and we are instantly shown District 5. The male is only 11, but he looks confident. The female called is 16, but a 12 year-old sticks up her hand and volunteers. As she walks up, just as it clicks in my own head, the commentators tell us that they too, like District 2, are brother and sister. I shake my head. How sick is this? The Capitol is going to thrive on this…

District 6's tributes were hardly worth recognizing. Both 14, both nervous. The male even threw up on stage. Don't blame him of course, but still, when you're on live TV...

District 7 looks a little threatening; the male is 18 and looks brutal. He'll be a major contender; I know it, I've got a gut feeling. I do not remember his name. The female is 15 and keeps staring at him. A definite crush there, you can see it a mile off. Hope she's ready for disappointment; he doesn't look the dating type, and you weren't exactly going to have time to…

District 8, like District 6, didn't look very intimidating. The male had to be carried up as he was in fits of hysterics and the female fainted on the spot. I didn't catch their names, ages, nothing. I didn't see the point.

District 9… I don't really see much noting about them. I glance sideways, where Gifford is scribbling in a notepad and Jessica is nodding to herself, sucking on the end of her hair. I take another handful of peanuts and began to nibble again.

District 10… it takes me a moment to realise it's us! The commentator comments on our strong appearance, compared to some of the other Districts. They pick up on our smile to one another on the stage; one commentator suggests a romantic relationship, while another thinks we might have wanted to have been picked. Both of which are very wrong of course, but let them think what they like. Maybe we can use this to our advantage! I turn, about to open my mouth to tell Gifford, but he's already nodding at me. Maybe we had the same idea at the same time.

District 11 was probably the worst; both tributes were 11 years old. I felt sick, watching those two little kids standing up there, stony-faced and trying not to cry. The female clung to a teddy bear. I could almost feel myself crying as well.

And finally, there was District 12. The poorest district it seemed; both tributes were 16, and both looked terribly under-fed, even more so then some of the other districts. Since District 12 won a few years back, I'll need to keep my eyes on them.

I sit back in my chair, my hands over my face. The majority of the tributes are under the age of 13? How on earth am I supposed to justify killing them? I can't, I won't, I decide. I won't take an innocent life, not one so young.

But I turn my face so that I'm looking at Gifford. He's smiling.

"I've got a plan. You two are going to be the best tributes ever!"

I give him a small smile, playing along.

Well, if I'm going down… might as well do it with a nation screaming my name, cheering me on.

**So, there you are ladies and gents, chapter 2 wrapped up. Hopefully, it's a little longer, and I hope to see you for the third chapter.**

**Of course, please leave some honest reviews as I would like to know what I'm doing wrong, if at all. **

**May the odds be ever in your favour…**

**-KovuTheLion15 XD**


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